by Patricia Kay
“Mrs. Hunt, Georgie’s on the phone.”
“Thank you, Martha.” Cornelia smiled, always delighted to hear from her oldest daughter. Now that Georgie had married such a wonderful man, and was stepmother to three equally wonderful children, she always had interesting news and funny stories to recount. And soon, to Cornelia’s delight, Georgie would be adding another baby to Cornelia’s growing list of grandchildren. Life was good.
Cornelia lifted the phone. “Hello, Georgie.”
“Hi, Mom. What’re you up to today?”
“Oh, nothing much. Just doing some flower arranging. Thinking about having a toes-up later.”
They chatted for a while, and then Georgie said, “Mom, I wanted to bounce something off you.”
“What, dear?” Cornelia listened thoughtfully as Georgie explained about her best friend Joanna Spinelli’s dilemma, finishing up with “I just wish I knew the owner of that gallery so I could put in a good word for Joanna. Unfortunately, he’s older than me, and I don’t believe I’ve ever met him. Do you by any chance know him?”
“Well, first of all, what’s his name?”
“Oh, sorry. Marcus Barlow. You might have read about him. He’s the head of Barlow International, that import/export company that’s doing so much business in Asia. Seattle Today did a big feature article on him back in May. I also read somewhere that he was going to appear on 60 Minutes.”
“Actually, Georgie, I’ve met Mr. Barlow. He was seated next to me at the heart association fund-raiser last month. He’s a really charming young man.”
For a moment, there was silence. Then Georgie exclaimed, “Mom! That’s wonderful. I can’t believe you know him.”
“Well, I don’t know him well, of course, but we did have the loveliest conversation that evening. And, in fact, on the drive home, I mentioned to Harry that we ought to invite Mr. Barlow to one of our dinner parties.” She remembered how, even though Marcus Barlow was an attractive, influential, wealthy man, and women had fawned over him all evening, he hadn’t paid them much attention. He’d seemed happier talking to Cornelia, even though she was old enough to be his mother. There was something about him that had really touched her that evening. Afterward, she’d thought perhaps she’d sensed a quality of loneliness in him and she’d responded to it.
“Do you think you could—”
Georgie didn’t have to finish her question. Cornelia knew what her daughter wanted from her. “I wouldn’t mind calling him and mentioning Joanna, if that’s what you’re suggesting. As I said, I wanted to invite him to dinner anyway.”
“Oh, gosh, that would be wonderful. But you could never let Joanna know you’d done so.”
“Why? Do you think she’d be upset?”
“Oh, you know how she is.”
“Well, darling, if what you’ve told me is accurate, if anyone needs a fairy godmother, it’s Joanna.”
Even though thousands of miles separated them, Cornelia knew Georgie was smiling. “And there’s no one better to fulfill that role than you, mother of mine.”
After they’d hung up, Cornelia decided she liked the idea of being Joanna’s fairy godmother. For years Cornelia had had all she could handle just keeping body and soul together and making sure her four daughters didn’t suffer from the sins of their father. She hadn’t the wherewithal to play Lady Bountiful. But now—especially since Harry had, over her objections, settled some sixty million dollars on her the week after their wedding—she had the means to do whatever she wanted to do.
Now, just where had she put that business card of Marcus Barlow’s?
* * *
Marcus had to pass right by the gallery on his way back to his office, and he couldn’t resist stopping in. Up and Coming was an indulgence, and he knew it—it barely paid for itself—but he didn’t care. He’d had to give up his dream of becoming a working artist when his father’s death had redirected his life. Up and Coming was his way of staying a part of the art community.
Granted, owning a gallery was a far cry from living his art, but at least now he felt he was contributing something important. From the day he’d opened its doors, Up and Coming had featured the work of new and struggling artists. Because of the boost he’d given them, Marcus could count half a dozen in the past few years who had gone on to make a success of their chosen careers.
Smiling, thinking how much he enjoyed his role with Up and Coming, he felt all his worries and responsibilities fade away as he entered the gallery.
Brenda, as always, seemed glad to see him. When the gallery had first opened, Marcus had been concerned about stopping by as often as he wanted to. He hadn’t wanted Brenda to think he questioned her abilities as his manager or that he was checking up on her. He needn’t have worried. Those thoughts never seemed to enter her mind.
In fact, sometimes she seemed too glad to see him. As a result, he was careful to maintain a strictly professional relationship. During the few times she had attempted to discuss his or her personal life, he had always steered her back to business.
Today was no exception. “You look tired,” she said.
He shrugged. “I wondered if you’d had a chance to contact Jamison Wells.”
“We talked right after lunch.”
“And?”
“He’s thrilled, of course.”
“Is November a good month for him?”
“He says yes. He guaranteed us forty paintings.”
“Great. When can we see them?”
“I told him you’d call to fix a time.”
After Brenda brought him up-to-date about two more new artists they were considering for future shows, she excused herself and headed toward the restroom. A moment later, the telephone rang, and Marcus walked behind the counter to answer it. After giving the caller directions to the gallery, he disconnected the call and was about to walk away when he noticed a business card on the floor next to the waste basket. He picked it up and glanced at it.
J S Designs
When you want to feel like a princess
There was a name in small type at the bottom—Joanna Spinelli—a phone number and a website address, but nothing else. The message on the card intrigued him. What kind of designs was the woman talking about? He was just about to take the card back to the office and look up the website when Brenda returned.
Seeing the card in his hand, she frowned. “I thought I threw that away.”
“You missed the basket. I found this on the floor.” When she said nothing further, he added, “What kind of designer is she?”
Brenda made a face. “She designs clothes. I told her I doubted we’d ever be interested in anything like that.”
He nodded. Normally he would have agreed with Brenda. Fashion had never interested him, especially couture fashion. But for some reason, he was curious about this woman’s designs. He guessed the statement about feeling like a princess was what had intrigued him.
Casually, he put the card in his jacket pocket. Brenda noticed, though. He saw her lips tighten. Deciding he owed her no explanation, he said he had to be going and would drop by again later in the week.
Back at his office, he pulled out the business card and looked up the woman’s website. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t what he found.
The dresses and gowns featured on the website were exactly the kinds of clothes he would like to see his sister wear, exactly the kinds of clothes he would want a wife of his to wear. They were stunning�
�beautiful and elegant. The Spinelli woman hadn’t exaggerated. Her clothes were fit for a princess.
He wished there were more of them on the website instead of the half dozen featured. He also wondered about the designer herself. There was no picture, no bio. Just contact information.
He was about to do a search of the designer’s name when his secretary buzzed him to say Cornelia Hunt was on the line. He smiled and picked up the phone. “Hello, Cornelia. What a nice surprise.”
“Is it? I’ve been meaning to call you ever since the night we met. And today I had the perfect excuse. Harrison and I are having a small dinner party next month on the eighth, and I was hoping you could come.”
“The eighth...” Marcus checked his calendar, saw that the evening was free and said, “That sounds good.”
After she gave him the particulars, she said, “If you’ve got a few more minutes, there’s one other thing I wanted to ask you about.”
“I have as many minutes as you need.”
“I know you own an art gallery in Belltown.”
“Yes. Up and Coming.”
“And you sometimes feature artists and designers who work with unusual materials. I believe my daughter mentioned a jewelry designer whose work will be shown in October?”
“That’s right.”
“Have you ever considered showing the work of a fashion designer?”
Taken aback, Marcus wondered if Cornelia Hunt was a mind reader. It was almost as if she’d known he was thinking about Joanna Spinelli. “I haven’t given it a lot of thought,” he said, “but yes, I have considered it.”
“In that case, I wanted to recommend someone. This young woman is very talented. In fact, she designed the bridesmaids’ dresses for my wedding and she also designed the bridal gown my oldest daughter wore when she was recently married. Her name is Joanna Spinelli, and she’s currently working on finishing her first collection and I’d really like to be able to help her out a bit. So I thought if you were interested I could introduce you.”
“It’s odd you should mention Ms. Spinelli, because she visited the gallery today and left her card. In fact, when you called, I had just finished looking at her designs on her website.”
“And what did you think of her work?”
“I was favorably impressed.”
“Lovely,” Cornelia Hunt said.
“In fact,” he said, thinking aloud, “it’s possible we could combine her designs and my sister’s jewelry into one show.” That would give Vanessa a boost, too, plus make for a more interesting evening for possible buyers. “I forgot to mention that the jewelry designer we’re featuring this fall is my sister, Vanessa.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
The more Marcus thought about it, the more logical his idea seemed. Of course, everything would depend on whether Vanessa liked the Spinelli woman and her designs and vice versa and whether the clothing and jewelry would be complementary, but it was certainly worth exploring.
“So, would you like me to arrange a meeting?” Cornelia asked.
“It’s not really necessary. I have Ms. Spinelli’s card. I’ll give her a call.”
“That’s even better, because the truth is, I was hoping Joanna didn’t have to know that I’d talked to you about her. She’s...rather proud, you see.”
“I understand. I’m rather proud myself.”
Cornelia laughed softly. “There’s nothing wrong with a little pride. It makes one work harder, don’t you think?”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
* * *
Joanna didn’t call Georgie after the fiasco at Up and Coming. Normally she would have. But right now she was too bummed to talk to anyone, even Georgie. It was all very well to tell herself she wasn’t a quitter, but she really had exhausted every possibility she or Georgie could think of.
What if she called Phoebe Lancaster? Maybe Joanna could talk the reporter into doing a feature spread on her and her designs, kind of a follow-up to the story about Cornelia’s wedding.
But really, what good would that do? Sure, it would be nice to have a bit of publicity, but without a collection to show and somewhere to show it, what was the point?
No, Joanna might as well face it. If something good didn’t happen soon, Joanna might as well pack it in and forget about her dreams. Because right now, the way things were, she had about as much chance of becoming an Oscar-winning actress as she did a successful fashion designer.
* * *
“Corny, dearest, I thought you’d decided to stay out of the matchmaking business.”
Cornelia frowned. “Whatever do you mean? I’m just trying to give Joanna a leg up, that’s all.”
“And when you decided to call him, it never entered your mind that she and Marcus Barlow might make a nice couple?” Harry said disbelievingly.
“No, of course not.” And it honestly hadn’t. But now that Harry mentioned it, she couldn’t help thinking how nice it would be if that lovely young man should like Joanna and vice versa, because Joanna was a terrific person, just the sort of spunky, strong young woman Cornelia admired.
“Knowing how romantic you are, I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, believe it. When I called Marcus, the only thing on my mind—other than inviting him to dinner—was securing a show for Joanna at his gallery.” Cornelia had already decided she was going to help Joanna financially, too. She had it all planned. She would arrange for Joanna to have a “loan” through the Queen Anne Community Bank in Cornelia’s old neighborhood, where she had banked for years. The money would actually come directly out of Cornelia’s account, but Joanna wouldn’t have to know that. Just as she wouldn’t have to know about Cornelia’s call to Marcus.
“What are you smiling about?” Harry said, drawing her closer. The two of them were sitting in front of the fire and enjoying their predinner cocktail.
“Oh, I was just thinking how much like you I’m becoming.”
Harry grinned and nuzzled her neck. “Really?” he murmured. “In that case, I hope you’ve chosen one of my better qualities to emulate.”
“I don’t think deviousness is a better quality, but sometimes it’s very useful.”
Harry laughed out loud. “So you admit you’re devious? Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Everyone is devious once in a while. Especially for a good cause.”
“The end justifies the means, in other words.”
“Well...” Cornelia hated to admit when Harry was right. Better to keep him guessing.
“Now, c’mon, Corny. Be fair.”
Cornelia took a sip of her Bellini, then set it down. She shivered as Harry’s arms tightened around her. Turning to face him, she murmured, “I guess I could be persuaded.”
As his lips met hers, she decided it wasn’t so bad admitting you were wrong when the reward was so deliciously sweet.
Chapter Three
Joanna was still pinching herself. It was more than eight hours since she’d received the call that had the potential to change her life, and she still could hardly believe it.
Marcus Barlow had called her! He was interested in meeting her! He liked her designs! Yes, yes, yes!
She knew she was even thinking in exclamation points, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Truly, if—after meeting her—he agreed to give her a venue to show her collection, her life would be totally different from what it was today.
Having a show at Up and Coming and all that would entai
l would put JS Designs on the map. Literally on the map. If she caught the eye of the right people, if they liked her work and ordered her designs, she would be able to do all the things she’d only dreamed about doing: rent a proper workroom, with not only a place to create her designs, but a place to display them and to sell them. Ideally, there would be enough room for her to both live and work.
And once she had the promise of a show at Up and Coming, she could go back to the various banks. Surely, with the show in her future, someone would be willing to lend her operating capital.
Grateful that Chick the Rat was still out of town and she didn’t have to take a sick day to have enough time to meet with Marcus Barlow, Joanna began getting her things ready for her eleven-thirty appointment. She was just about to leave for the gallery when her cell phone rang.
She frowned at the display. Queen Anne Community Bank? Why were they calling her? Thinking it was probably some kind of credit card offer, she almost let the call go to voice mail, but she had a few minutes, so she might as well answer and get rid of them. Otherwise, they’d just pester her again.
Seven minutes later, in stunned disbelief, she disconnected the call. Holy cow! She hoped she’d made sense in her conversation with the loan officer. What on earth was going on? Was the entire world tilting on its axis? Why else would everything suddenly make a 180-degree swing and begin to go right for her when yesterday everything in her life had been totally hopeless? It was almost as if some fairy godmother had waved a magic wand, she thought in dazed disbelief.
Queen Anne Community Bank had decided to lend her the money she needed to finance her collection. Actually, the loan they’d proposed would be enough to keep her in operating capital for a year or more. It would enable her to find a place to do business and to hire as many employees as she needed to assist her in fulfilling future orders. She’d also be able to purchase all necessary materials and equipment to run the business.
She was so excited she wasn’t sure she trusted herself to drive to the gallery. Maybe, just this once, she’d indulge herself and take a taxi.